


Tea Towel Romance

by Witches_Britches



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22962736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witches_Britches/pseuds/Witches_Britches
Summary: Draco gets some cross cultural training at work from none other than Hermione Granger.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 9
Kudos: 52
Collections: HeartofAspen: A Gift Collection





	Tea Towel Romance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeartOfAspen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfAspen/gifts).



Usually, Wednesdays at the Ministry were bustling with everyone gasping at their last efforts to wind down projects, though Draco usually felt like he was made of taffy, trying to stretch his lackluster efforts until the weekend arrived. Ever since he started at the Ministry a few years ago, he quickly accomplished all his goals and there was not much to look forward to, except weekly meetings. It was where he could regularly and openly gawk at Granger without any suspicion since she always had some cause to present. 

There was something different about this Wednesday though. 

There was an emptiness, and he paused as he glanced over at all the empty desks. It was oddly quiet, and for a moment he had to ask himself if it was some sort of holiday he had forgotten or if there was some mandatory Dark Lord Preparation meeting Potter had initiated. _Did I forget? Fuck._

Draco shoved his hands in his pocket, intending to walk toward the large meeting room where Potter prepared his Anti-Dark Lord Workshops. Merlin forbid an Ex-death eater had not attended, that’s not suspicious at all. _Fucking Potter._ We have better things to do, well- sort of. Scowling, he passed the Ministry Canteen, but thought he had heard something, so he paused.

He stepped backwards, towards the entrance, listening closely, then pivoted to step in further and take a peek. He did not have a visual on anyone in there, but heard it again, a series of clinking and pinging noises. 

Draco stepped in past a few cafe tables and around a corner to find Granger in the far part of the kitchen busily walking back and forth. Crossing his arms as he leaned against a wall, he smirked as he continued to study the witch. 

It appeared as if she was shuffling metal pots and tin bowls and organizing utensils that he’d never seen before and tampering with the- he had to think, as he was used to house elves doing these things. What was it called? Oh right, an oven. She was bending over and tampering with knobs on the _oven_ in the far corner of the kitchen. He wasn’t complaining about the view, only disappointed when she stood up again, appearing determined, but in a less professional way. Her baby hairs had frizzed out from her tied up bun, and her cheeks were flush with colour, as she unconsciously bit her lip while flipping through a book.

It was curious though, where the oven and supplies had come from. All Muggle items no doubt. He chuffed to himself, they likely collected from Old Man Weasley, recalling he was a bit of a nut about Muggle items. So, what was Granger doing with it all, was this work related?

It was hardly a debate on whether or not he should bother her or go on to Potter’s useless workshop, Draco easily chose her. 

"Granger?"

She quickly looked up just as she plopped a heavy bag of something on the table with a thump, and then what appeared to be a bit of powdery smoke poofed out the corners of the packaging. 

"Malfoy..." She exhaled, and patted her hands on a red cloth wrapped around her waist. He only earned a glance, and then she focused back on placing items on the table to concentrate.

"Are you... _making_ something back here?"

Draco slyly glanced about, just to be sure she was in fact by herself. 

"Yes, well…” She paused from flipping a page in her book, “Ginny wanted to obtain Cultural Certification hours so I was going to show her how Muggle ovens work, but she had to go to that... _meeting_ and I figured I would just get started.” Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand as she continued, “My kitchen is not this big and..."

She trailed off as she looked up to Draco, pausing completely. She shook her head, as if to imply it did not matter, perhaps, especially to him. 

He recognized the awkwardness of how civilized their conversation was, even for a moment, as they usually only bickered at the office or did not speak at all. 

Draco pushed off the wall he was leaning on, intending to leave her alone until she mumbled under her breath, hardly able to look up at him,  
"Do you want to help?"

Half turned, he looked back toward her, but his expression must have given her doubt as she reacted defensively, "Just thought I'd ask."

Honestly he was taken aback that she had asked at all. She was quite professional to everyone while at the office, so he assumed it was only professional courtesy. After all, he was some Ex Death Eater everyone was just barely tolerating and she was the magnificent golden girl, defender of all creatures great and small, but the way she reacted just now, implied something else. He fell back into what they were both accustomed to and he arrogantly replied,

"Sure… how difficult could it be?"

Hermione gave him a side glance that spoke volumes, likely regretting the invite,  
"Okay, come over here."

For more than a few reasons, Draco was actually quite nervous. He had hardly ever done such common things like baking or cooking, and his pride would suffer if he was less capable than a house elf. And, attempting something he was not good at or familiar with, in front of Granger, was not what he thought would impress her. He decided to use all his focus, channeling his efforts from potions class and walked over studying the items on the table.

"Right,” She chimed, “Go ahead and open that bag of flour and measure 340 grams of it.”

He followed where her hand was pointing, unaware of what _flour_ actually was. When he patted his hand on the small packaging, she nodded and he inspected it to see where the opening was. Clenching his jaw, he felt he was already failing Muggle baking class with Granger. So, in his discomfort, he habitually began to reach for his wand when she lectured,

"Nope, no magic! This is a _cultural_ training lesson."

He exhaled and gave her a dark look that conveyed his annoyance.

She only stared back, challenging him to behave, so he sneered in return, which gave him the opportunity to commit to memory every detail of every freckle on her rosy cheeks. Something about them highlighted her soft brown eyes— as if to guard her perfectly clever nose, just above her perfectly insufferable lips. 

Shifting his weight and returning his attention to the flour, she continued to organize the other ingredients. As he turned the bag to figure out how to open the thin layer of paper, she busily added, "And be careful because-"

But it was too late. Draco had pulled a part of the paper, and in seconds, a rip turned into a large tear and flour billowed out all over Draco. 

His dark button-up was no longer a vibrant, verdant shade of green from the large splash of white dust, and now appeared to be a pale, sickly hue. He stood frozen, hearing Granger drop some tools and rush over to him— all while mumbling something with a twinge of her regret for inviting him to participate.

It took him completely by surprise when she began to wipe him down with a small tea towel, which, in turn, caused Draco's heart to race. Hermione Granger was _pawing_ at _him_ at _work!_ Then, he felt a tickle in his nose and knew he would sneeze, so to avoid her, he turned his head foolishly towards the unguarded pile of flour. 

As quickly as he expelled the air from his lungs, the flour retaliated with a large cloud of menacing white back toward him, again. This time, resembling a toadstool, it reached up toward his face and hair. As he tried his best to clear his eyes, leaving wet, alabaster tracks down his bone-white cheeks he noticed that it had also gotten all over Granger, as well. 

Keeping his face pinched, he slowly turned toward her, only really able to peek out of one eye. She had her eyes closed tight, not moving.

Draco could sense her annoyance, but something about her gesture to clean him, pre-sneeze, and his now flour covered body gave him a sense of humility and perspective. He could see that she hardly felt the same. _Are we not allowed to use wands for cleaning either? Is she angry?_

She looked as if she was about to speak, likely to chastise him or complain, but he couldn’t bear having Hermione angry at him, yet again. So before she began, he quickly leaned in to kiss her lightly powdered lips. 

Granger remained frozen with Draco slowly breaking the kiss. 

He moved back realizing that this was a terrible idea, confirmed by the brisk sting of her palm against his cheek. 

The flour dramatically puffed away from his face where her hand had just been, and he looked down in shame. Why he had the urge to kiss her was foolish, he knew this, but in the end he was glad he did it. At least now, he knew where he stood; not a chance. 

Draco did not have to look up to know she was still there, curious as to why she had not just walked off. He was dying to know why she was still standing there. As he peeked up, to his surprise Hermione had her hands over her mouth. Her voice, slightly muffled through her hands, "I'm sorry Draco- I-"

Confused, concluding that he definitely deserved it, he wondered why she appeared riddled with guilt. Then he realized they were at work, and neither of them should have done what they had. 

As she took a step forward, she gently placed her hand on his cheek where it had been moments ago with a different sentiment. He observed her as she studied the side of his face, until she met his eyes. 

She closed her eyes and exhaled, “Sorry, that was… uncalled for and-”

“It’s fine Granger, it was deserved.”

Draco cleared his throat uncertain of what they should do next. “Granger, I’m not good… at this.”

Though on the surface it appeared that he was referring to the baking standard that she was used to, they both knew he meant something more. 

She nodded in agreement, handing him a tea towel, but when he began to accept it, she did not let it go. He looked up at her wondering why, until she gave it a small tug, forcing him to step closer. 

Granger cleared away some flour from her face with her other hand, and stood up straight, “You’re the only one who pays attention to me.”

Draco clenched the tea towel tightly, determined not to let go, curious about what she meant. She continued,

“In the Friday meetings, you’re always… _watching_ me.”

Draco’s heart began to race, unaware that he was the only one. Surely that could not be true? Others must have been paying attention, how could they _not_?

He felt caught, and perhaps she was confronting him on his inappropriate gawking at her.

She looked down, not letting go of the tea towel as she stepped forward. “Draco… do you like me- or is this some sort of… game?”

Draco glanced away quickly. What was happening? He was in a Muggle-fashioned kitchen in the Ministry of Magic and Hermione Granger was asking him something he could not admit to, to anyone. Though he was sure that kiss was a dead give away. 

He felt his palms begin to sweat, and worried the tea towel would slip right out of his hand. This was it, he had to say something. He looked into her deep, brown eyes, the white powder coating her eyelashes, as Hermione awaited his response. 

Draco swallowed hard, consciously having to make his body move, quietly confessing, “Not a game.”

She stood there staring, as if to size him up. “Right, so… you actually, like me?”

Her clarification made him feel vulnerable, finding it difficult to look up at her and all that he could manage was a simple nod to her question. He glanced up to her to witness the shocked look as she raised eyebrows to her hairline in reaction. 

He felt another tug from the other end of the towel and she was even closer now, “Right… so maybe we should… try this again?” 

Draco looked down at her hand, her grip firm and unyielding, then back up at the flour-dusted witch, trying to read her expression. 

A second later, she was glancing at his lips, and then slowly leaned in to kiss him. 

It felt more like a test, as she pressed against his lips and it took him everything he had not to wrap his hands around her waist and press his body against hers. Her lips were gentle against his and he lingered there as she broke the slow peck between them. When he opened his eyes, she appeared satisfied, staying close to him. She whispered, “Okay, that was… better.”

He could not move, hoping she would return for another go. Instead she cleared her throat, loosening her grip on the towel. “Right, well, we’ll have to get another bag of flour.”

Draco’s body deflated, causing a bit of flour to run down his shirt. She still wanted to continue the bloody Muggle cooking workshop? 

She gave him a concerned look, "Malfoy?"

Her voice interrupted his thoughts and in a raspy voice he managed to respond, "Granger?"

She smiled, clearly enjoying his stunned appearance and handed him a bowl, "Still able to help?"

He coughed lightly, straightening himself out, finding that he was still in possession of the tea towel. He accepted the bowl from her with a strange cohesion of victory and defeat, and he responded less arrogantly than before,

"Sure… how difficult could it be?"

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank Otterlyardent for the wonderful beta work and coming through in my time of need! (All other mistakes are my own.)  
> This was a gift for HeartOfAspen for all her influence and encouragement for me and others, on writing matters and other witchy things :P When it comes to tea towels, I think of you. I know you're honored by this, no need to thank me (CLAW). Keep on cookin my little kitchen witch, do what makes you happy and you will always measure up. (que sappy theme music)
> 
> [ Side note: CLAW= Cackling Like A Witch. (copyright Witches Britches) < that's legit right?....]


End file.
